Denken
by Falkenauge
Summary: Commander Wolffe's general thoughts while on a cold assignment. -Further expansion is on the way, due to feedback-


**_Star Wars does not belong to me, or any of its characters/locations._**

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He was just a number. Nobody remembered him, or recognized him, and he accepted that. He didn't argue, or say otherwise. He _accepted_ it for what it was - for what _he_ was; nobody. Like a snowflake, he landed on a glass pane, attracting the attention of the observant child, for just a second.

_Just_ a second. And then he was nothing again. He didn't exist.

As a commander, he had a more important role than the usual fodder. He had to make choices, and that required a larger thinking capacity. That was something his creators didn't count on; free thought.

He ignored the flaw, refusing to give in to emotions like that of some other commanders.

He could feel the bitter cold seep through his gloves and chill his fingers. Like on Khorm, there was little warmth on the planet. Snow fell lightly, and the field was quiet. The crunch of boots smashing into the snow and the clack of armor reverberated in the still air.

The tree line was up ahead, about 1.5 klicks away, he estimated. He felt a small rush of relief and glanced back at his troopers. General Plo Koon was leading the way, clad in a thick winter coat. The Kel Dor was a trustworthy leader and the commander would gladly give up his life for him.

"Commander Wolffe, any sign of hostile forces?"

That was his name. Wolffe, leader of the Wolfpack. His helmet sported the redesigned wolf insignia while a pale blue ran down his armor.

"None, General."

The Jedi remained silent and gave a slight nod. Wolffe watched his surroundings suspiciously. _It's all too quiet,_ he thought, and fingered his weapon's trigger. Something irked at him but he couldn't place the feeling.

And then he saw it. Small mounds, barely visible, dotted the field. _Oh, fek._

"Halt!"

The troopers were alert instantly, stopping in their tracks, and they raised their charged blasters.

"Minefield," Wolffe said through the intercoms and signaled for them to stand down. Plo turned to him. "There is mines everywhere, General," Wolffe explained and pointed at several. The general exhaled. "I couldn't sense them. The locals have done a very good job at hiding them."

"Almost too good," Boost chirped from behind Wolffe.

"We'll have to tread carefully. The least thing we want is for the militia to hear us make a mess of things," said Plo.

Wolffe nodded in agreement. "Yes sir."

* * *

They resumed their trek, and he was glad when they entered the safety of the trees. By this time, his fingers were numb and his limbs were completely stiff.

They had arrived on the planet via gunship at the capital nearly twelve hours ago, sent to help rally and stifle the Separatist resistance.

So far, in Wolffe's eye at least, it was all going to hell.

Their vehicles had been incapacitated by the thick snow-covered roads, forcing them to walk on foot. The majority of the locals were hostile, and he was freezing his backside off.

_All for some big-shot politician who can't handle a blaster if his life depended on it,_ thought Wolffe in annoyance.

Wolffe was aware he'd be court-martialed if his views were voiced, so he kept his opinions to himself. He wasn't supposed to have an opinion, though. He remembered that. It was seared into his mind by his creators from the beginning of his existence.

Follow orders - no questions asked. His creators were proud of their achievement of making the near-perfect, obedient army. But for his creators, nothing was perfect; there was always something to improve.

Wolffe grunted and resumed to follow the general.

The woodland was thick with sagging foliage, making it near impossible to navigate. The men were silently trudging on as they fought through it. There was an exclamation from Boost as his visor was struck by a branch, causing him to briefly stumble. He growled and swatted the branch away, grumbling, while Comet and Sinker gave a small snicker from up ahead.

"Enough with the chatter," Wolffe ordered. There was a synchronized trio of 'yes sir!', and then com silence.

Discipline. Without it, the army would have crumbled. There was only chaos without structure. Without the GAR, the Republic would have fallen two years ago, along with its peace keepers. The budget was inflated now, and the Republic was in deep debt to the many investors and his creators, along with several smaller supporters.

The army was strapped thin as it was fighting over the entire galaxy, and the constant tension between senators was a headache Wolffe luckily didn't have to deal with.

Politicians didn't understand, nor did civilians, what was really at stake. Just as long as they had money in their pockets, they were happy. If that was threatened, everything became a big deal.

Wolffe knew there was a place for fear and when to use it, but normal beings didn't. They stampeded like a pack of childish banthas and caused an unnecessary ruckus, straining everything as it was.

It puzzled him at the public's stupidity.

Plo Koon stopped as the fading daylight managed to peer through the foliage. "We'll rest here for the night, Commander. Making our way in the dark would be nothing but trouble."

"Yes sir," he replied. The Wolfpack shrugged off their packs. Wolffe pulled out a heat canister and ignited it, letting it cast a warm glow. The woodland was too thick for the enemy to see the light.

The Wolfpack, having secured the area, simultaneously crouched down and extended their hands toward the canister. Plo chuckled, rubbing his hands, while Wolffe was still alert for activity. Comet came up beside him. "I got this, sir. You should get yourself warmed up."

"No, Corporal," he said. "I'll stay on watch for another hour. We'll rotate out."

"Yes sir."

Comet retreated, and Wolffe was alone with his thoughts again.

The woodland was mute of any sounds, other than the general and the troopers shifting. Not even an owl hooting, or a packrat scurrying to find its prey. There was such a lack of wildlife. Though it was normal for the planet, from what he had read about it.

He unsealed his helmet, letting the frigid night air rush into his lungs. He stood there, his face paled. He exhaled and resealed his helmet.

_Today's technology… you gotta appreciate it._

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**_Thanks for reading! Feel free to review if you have any feedback or _****_criticisms._**


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